


Hanschen Rilow's Guide to Surviving High School with No Strings Attached

by priorwalter



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fuckboy Hansi, Hanschen Driven Angst, Hanschen Has Dumb Bitch Disease, I love Hanschen I just love to bully him, M/M, No Talking About Feelings We Die Like Men, Roasting of Georg Zirschnitz, Stupid emo bitch Hanschen, Thot Ernst, bisexual Hanschen, ernst has a backbone you cowards write him with one, it's kind of slow burn but also not, mentions of melchior unfortunately, there needs to be an archive warning for angst specifically for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priorwalter/pseuds/priorwalter
Summary: Hanschen and Ernst are not dating.But they’re not not dating, either.It’s confusing.*Hanschen Rilow is getting through high school with no strings attached, but he can’t seem to cut himself off from Ernst.





	Hanschen Rilow's Guide to Surviving High School with No Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> im as big a hernst shipper as the rest of yall but sometimes i have a hard time making myself believe 'and so you should' is like, loving and nice. so i decided to write a fic where when hanschen says that, he IS being a big thot and not genuine, but ends up falling in love with ernst anyway.
> 
> this is in hanschen's pov, which i find a lot more difficult than ernst's so be gentle with me ok. also, hanschen seems like a big asshole, but dont worry im not trying to slander him hes just an arrogant boy. hes my favourite musical theatre character of all time ok.

Hanschen and Ernst are not dating.

 

But they’re not _not_ dating, either.

 

Hanschen is perfectly fine with the arrangement. He couldn’t be happier, in fact. Ernst gets to spend time with the boy he loves, and Hanschen gets sex on the regular. It’s beneficial for both parties, really. What could go wrong?

 

* * *

 

 

Hanschen forgets, sometimes, that Ernst is not as naive and innocent as he once believed. Like today, Hanschen had invited Ernst over to help him with his English essay, and Ernst had wasted no time shoving Hanschen onto his bed as soon as the bedroom door was shut behind them. And how immediately after they’d finished, Ernst had dropped his essay on the bed and stared at Hanschen expectantly.

 

“Ernst,” Hanschen says as he sits up, “I cannot possibly help you with your essay right now.”

 

Ernst sighs. “This is what you invited me over to do. It’s not my fault you get tired out so easily.”

 

Hanschen laughs, and Ernst glares petulantly. Ernst doesn’t like to be rude, even as a joke. “What sort of bee’s gotten into your bonnet, darling?” The ‘darling’ just slips out, and Hanschen regrets it for a moment, until he sees how red Ernst’s face becomes.  

 

“There’s no bees in any bonnets, Hansi. I’m just frustrated, is all.” Ernst shoves his books aside and lies back down. Hanschen sits up and cards his fingers through Ernst’s hair, waiting for him to continue.

 

“Georg is angry at me, for spending more time with you than I do with him.” Ernst rolls over and presses his face into the blankets. Hanschen tugs on his hair a bit to get him to look up.

 

“And you thought the appropriate solution was to come to my house and deflower me?”

 

Hanschen laughs as Ernst shoves his face back into the bed, groaning. “I hate you, Hansi.” He can barely make out the words muffled by blankets. Ernst finally sits up when he runs out of air and says, “And besides, _I_ did not deflower you. You were deflowered long before I came along.”

 

“Why is Georg so mad anyway? I thought his best friend was Otto.”

 

Ernst rolls his eyes. “So did I! I always knew they were closer with each other than they were with me, I don’t see why they care now that I have more friends than just the two of them.”

 

Hanschen scoffs. “They probably don’t like that you’ve picked me, out of anyone.” He knows most of his grade doesn’t like him, but he’s okay with that. He’s still smarter and prettier and wittier than all of them.

 

Ernst frowns. “Hush, Hanschen. Maybe they’re jealous because I get to spend all my time with you and they don’t.”

 

“They probably think I’m fattening you up to eat you.” Hanschen looks Ernst up and down. “You need it, you’re too skinny.”

 

“You _like_ my skinniness, or else we wouldn’t be here.”

 

Hanschen pokes him in the stomach. “I guess so. Maybe Georg knows that, and he wants to fatten you up so _he_ can eat you, but I’ve thrown a wrench in his plans.”

 

Ernst honest-to-God giggles. “Well, good thing you’re here to save me, Hansi.”

 

“What on Earth would you even do without me?”

 

“Die in the hands of Georg Zirschnitz, apparently.”

 

Hanschen rests his chin on Ernst’s shoulder. “Maybe Georg is madly in love with me, and he’s jealous of our deliciously sinful relationship.” He panics immediately after calling their relationship a relationship _out loud to Ernst_ , because what if Ernst thinks Hanschen feels the same way he does?

 

Hanschen’s panicked thoughts are erased by the look of fear on Ernst’s face. “Georg doesn’t _know_ , right? About us?” Ernst pushes himself off of Hanschen’s lap, and Hanschen wants more than anything to pull him back, but he doesn’t.

 

“Of course not, it was just a joke. No one knows.” Something occurs to him. “Ernst, are you ashamed of me?” It’s a mean thing to ask, but Hanschen is mean.

 

Ernst looks horrified. “No, Hansi, no! I just… I thought this was a secret. Georg and Otto and… everyone, except you, I guess, they don’t know I’m gay. And I’m afraid if they find out, it’ll get back to my parents, somehow.”

 

Hanschen cocks his head. “Would they react badly?”

 

“My friends, no. My parents, yes.” Ernst shrugs. “Also, I’d like my friends to find out when I tell them, because I don’t think Georg would be happy if he found out because of you.”

 

Hanschen smirks. “So you admit Georg doesn’t like me?”

 

“Hansi, I don’t think you should look so smug over someone disliking you.”

 

“I don’t need _everyone_ to like me.” He shrugs. “I’m better than Georg Zirschnitz anyway, I don’t care.”

 

Ernst raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean, better than Georg? I could abandon you for Georg at any moment.”

 

Hanschen snorts. “Georg would never want you, he’s too preoccupied with his _notoriously_ well-endowed piano teacher.”

 

Ernst beams. “You don’t want me to abandon you for Georg.”

 

Hanschen scoffs. He couldn’t care less, really, but it’s too mean, even for Hanschen, to out and say that. “You can abandon me for Georg if you so wish, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I doubt he’d let you jump his bones not seconds after you get him alone.”

 

Ernst blushes furiously. “I didn’t jump your bones! That makes it sound so weird, Hanschen.”

 

“What would you rather call it, darling?” _Darling_ , there it is again. He doesn’t like being too affectionate, even if it is positively adorable how flustered it makes Ernst.

 

“Working off my frustrations.” Ernst replies primly.

 

Hanschen snorts. “So you just used me?”

 

Ernst shakes his head. “I get to work out my frustrations, you get an orgasm. It’s a fair trade, Hansi. No one’s using anyone.”

 

Now that is a lie if Hanschen’s ever heard one, but he elects to ignore it. “You also got an orgasm. So not really fair, don’t you think?”

 

Ernst tuts. “You got to get manhandled, which - shut up, Hansi, I know you like it, you can’t control your every move and expression when we’re having sex. So. Fair trade.”

 

Hanschen doesn’t blush, not ever. He certainly does _not_ blush at Ernst’s sharp retort, but it’s a close thing. He won’t let Ernst have the last word, so he shoots back, “Ernst, I didn’t think you had that in you! Is this the first time you’ve said the word _sex_ without your face going up in flames?”

 

Ernst scowls. “You know I’m not some blushing virgin, Hansi. You’ve personally made sure of the second one. Are you going to help me with my essay soon?”

 

Hanschen knows he’s pushed Ernst too far, but he just can’t help himself. Ernst never gets angry, but he lets Hanschen get under his skin so easily he practically lives there. “Don’t be so touchy, darling. I’m simply trying to have a little fun.”

 

“This is the reason people don’t like you, you know,” Ernst says, “you’re mean.”

 

He looks genuinely hurt, which Hanschen wants to ignore, but then he feels _bad_ for hurting Ernst, which he shoves away. He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t care if they like me. You like me.”

 

“I _love_ you, Hanschen. But just because I do doesn’t mean you can go around bullying everyone else.”

 

Hanschen carefully schools his facial expression into something neutral. “Once we get out of high school, I will never see these people again. All I’m doing is getting through it with no strings attached.”

 

Ernst’s face darkens. “Can you help me with my essay, Hanschen? I have to get home soon.” His voice is carefully even.

 

Hanschen ignores the horrible feeling now residing in his stomach.

 

Later that night, Hanschen lies in bed, lost in thought. He doesn’t really know how this thing with Ernst started. Their first kiss was two months ago, but they were friends before that.

 

It started because Hanschen noticed Ernst’s stare following him around everywhere. Hanschen waited for Ernst to approach him, but when the moment never came, Hanschen had to take matters into his own hands. He’s not really sure why he ever tried, because Hanschen _never_ makes the first move, and Ernst isn’t really his type.

 

It hits Hanschen very suddenly that Ernst is his best friend, which is not a comforting thought. If he broke things off with Ernst, he would miss him, which means he should end things as soon as possible, because Hanschen is getting through high school with no strings attached.

 

But Ernst is so _pretty_.

 

 

* * *

 

Ernst doesn’t like to sit in the school’s cafeteria because it’s too noisy and crowded, but that’s where Hanschen finds him today, instead of at their usual spot in the library.

 

As if sensing his presence, Ernst turns around and waves him over to where he’s sitting with Georg, Otto, and Moritz.

 

This day cannot get any worse.

 

He can’t just turn on his heel and leave now, so Hanschen strides through the cafeteria and takes the seat beside Ernst, who beams at him. The others fall silent, and Hanschen sighs. “Riveting conversation, boys.” Ernst elbows him sharply, and Hanschen grins at him.

 

Otto and Georg exchange a suspicious glance, but Moritz doesn’t seem to notice the heavy tension. “Ilse asked me out last night,” he says quickly, tugging on his sleeves.

 

Georg is instantly distracted from whatever he was trying to psychically communicate to Otto. “ _What_?”

 

“I thought no one saw her anymore, since she left school.” Ernst remarks.

 

Moritz shakes his head. “I see her on my walk home from school. We talk sometimes.” He’s trying to hide his smile behind his hands, but it’s bright as day.

 

“Martha won’t be happy.” Hanschen says dryly, and huffs dramatically when the four others look at him oddly. “She has a crush on you.”

 

Otto snorts. “Save some for the rest of us, Moritz.”

 

Moritz sticks his tongue out. “Georg doesn’t need any girls anyway, he has Fraulein Grossenbustenhalter.”

 

“Fuck off, Moritz, at least I didn’t have a dream about my m--”

 

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you,” hisses Otto. “I hate you.” He then turns to Ernst. “What about you, Ernst? You never talk about girls.”

 

Hanschen bites back a laugh, and he knows Ernst is fighting back the urge to look at him. “I’d rather focus on school than girls.”

 

Georg tuts. “You’re failing anyway, might as well have fun doing it.”

 

“I’m not failing!” Ernst’s voice becomes very high. “And I don’t want to date any girls. Leave me alone.”

 

“That sounds like a lie.” Moritz stares at Ernst unblinkingly. “Who is she?”

 

Hanschen places his hand on Ernst’s knee under the table, and Ernst bites his lip. Hanschen can _feel_ Ernst’s need to turn and glare at him. “No one! There’s no one. You guys are my best friends, you know I would tell you.”

 

Georg’s eyes narrow. “We’ll let it go for now. But if you’re harbouring a secret girlfriend, we’ll find out.”

 

Ernst actually laughs. “I promise you you’ll find nothing of the sort.” Hanschen raises an eyebrow at him, so Ernst punches him lightly in the arm.

 

Georg looks between them suspiciously, but says nothing. “So, Moritz, how’d Ilse do it?”

 

Hanschen is very glad they’re sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, and Otto, Georg, and Moritz are all sitting on the other side of the table, because it means he can slide his hand up Ernst’s leg without anyone noticing. The tips of Ernst’s ears start to turn pink, and Hanschen smiles to himself. He doesn’t realize he’s tuned out the conversation until Moritz asks with concern, “Ernst? What’s wrong?”

 

Ernst’s face practically bursts into flames. “I’m fine.”

 

Hanschen doesn’t remove his hand. “Are you sure? Do you need to see the nurse?” He asks innocently.

 

Ernst’s eyes widen. “Yes, that would be good. Thanks. Um, I’ll see you guys later.” He smiles at his friends awkwardly.

 

As soon as they exit the cafeteria, Ernst glowers at Hanschen. “You are horrible. Never do that again, they probably think I’m crazy now.”

 

Hanschen laughs melodically and replies, “You say that as if I’m not about to pull you into a supply closet.”

 

Ernst freezes. “Hansi! Someone will see!”

 

“You just have to pick the right supply closet, and no one will notice.” Hanschen mutters, pulling Ernst to a quiet end of the hallway, which leads to an unused teacher’s bathroom.

 

“This isn’t a supply closet,” notices Ernst.

 

“Sharp observation skills, Ernst. Now let’s continue on where I left off.”

  
  
  


Later that day, Hanschen and Ernst are sitting together in the vineyard. “Did you have fun at lunch?” Ernst asks.

 

Hanschen leers at him. “Of course.”

 

Ernst cuffs him on the shoulder. “Shush. I mean with my friends. What did you think of them?”

 

“Georg is certainly a character.” He doesn’t elaborate beyond that. Truly, he thinks Georg is irritating, and Otto is a clone of Georg, and Moritz is too innocent for his own good. Despite their glaring flaws, Hanschen… kind of likes them, which is unfortunate.

 

“They just don’t know you yet.” Ernst promises him. “Georg will stop hating you in no time.”

 

Hanschen laughs, and they fall into a companionable silence. He finds himself yearning to hold Ernst’s hand, which is an unwelcome urge Hanschen doesn’t know what to do with. He thinks about Ernst’s friends again. Though he finds Georg and Otto a little tiresome, and Moritz a little sad, he wants them to like him. Which is another unwelcome thought. Ernst seems to be giving him lots of those lately, which is yet another reason Hanschen should end things between them. Except, the thought saddens him, which is terrifying in itself. Suddenly, he needs to escape, he can’t be around Ernst anymore, he can’t be around anyone. It feels like the world is closing in on him and he can’t breathe, he can’tcan’tcan’t--

 

He chokes out a polite, “I should be getting home. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ernst,” and gives Ernst a cold smile before leaving without another word. He hears protests behind him, but he has to get out of here, he _has_ to.

 

Hanschen Rilow is getting through high school with no strings attached, but he can’t seem to cut himself off from Ernst.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Hanschen eats lunch in the library. He knows Ernst is in the cafeteria, but he doesn’t feel like seeing the others. If he becomes friends with Ernst’s friends, it will be harder when everything falls apart. He waits for Ernst to come find him, but the end of lunch approaches and there’s no sign of him.

 

The bell rings, and Hanschen pretends he’s not hurt.

 

At the end of the day, he doesn’t wait for Ernst to walk home with him, even though they’d planned to study for their history test together. It shouldn’t bother him so much that Ernst is mad at him, but it does, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. He desperately wants to stop caring this much, but he’s in too far. He feels his phone vibrate, and he knows it’s Ernst but he doesn’t check it. If Ernst wants to ignore him at lunch, Hanschen can ignore him until he explains himself. He’ll probably show up at Hanschen’s house soon after Hanschen arrives at home, and then they’ll argue and then kiss and makeup, and they’ll study for the test and be back to normal.

 

But Ernst doesn’t show up. Hanschen waits ten minutes, twenty, an hour. The house answers him with utter silence.

 

He finally relents and checks his phone. ‘ _I guess you already went home so Georg is helping me instead. See you tomorrow_ ’. Stupid Georg. He throws his phone onto the bed. Stupid Georg, stupid Ernst, stupid Hanschen. How do other people deal with these emotions all the time? There’s a reason he wants to get through high school with nothing to show for it, but maybe it’s too late now.

 

He dives into his homework to distract himself and skips dinner. He’s halfway finished the final draft of an essay that’s not due for another two weeks when his little sister, Melitta, opens his door. “Your friend is at the door,” she says. “You should let him in, it’s raining.”

 

Hanschen sits up abruptly. “Why didn’t you let him in then?” He hurries to the front door where sure enough, Ernst is getting sopping wet. He opens the door and ushers Ernst up to his room, where he gives him some of his pajamas and a blanket. “Why were you walking around in the rain?”

 

Ernst raises his eyebrows. “To talk to you. Obviously.”

 

“You could’ve texted, or called me.”

 

“I did.”

 

Hanschen searches for his phone in the mess of blankets on the bed and finds two missed calls and three texts from Ernst. He shrugs. “Sorry, I was doing homework.”

 

Ernst crosses his arms and says, “I am perfectly prepared for the test tomorrow, thank you very much.”

 

Hanschen lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ernst. Now put on some dry clothes, you’re going to get sick.”

 

Ernst shakes his head. “I’m not planning on staying long. I have Latin work to do. I just thought you would want to explain yourself, or something. Why didn’t you come to sit with me again?”

 

“I didn’t want to see your friends,” Hanschen says offhandedly, and when Ernst frowns, he adds, “I like to have you all to myself.”

 

“You don’t like them,” Ernst accuses.

 

Hanschen sighs. He wishes this were simpler. “I don’t have to like your friends, darling. It’s not like we’re dating.”

 

Ernst’s eyes begin to glisten with tears, but Hanschen pretends it’s just rainwater. “I’m not stupid, Hansi. I know what this is. But we’re also friends, and that means something to me. I’m going home now. Goodbye.” He stands up to leave, but Hanschen grabs his arm.

 

What Hanschen wants to say is, _You came all the way here for that?_ or, _Please don’t go, I’m sorry_ , but he just says, “You can’t walk home in this weather.”

 

Ernst huffs. “I can’t stay here.”

“Yes, you can. I really am sorry, Ernst.” He pouts. “I don’t like to fight with you.”

 

Ernst snaps, “It’s okay if we fight. We aren’t dating, after all.” He sighs and starts to strip off his soaking clothes. After a few seconds, he says, “Hansi, I can’t fit into your clothes. You’re too tiny.”

 

Hanschen glares. “Are you making a short joke?”

 

“No. You know, there’s a reason everyone called you Little Hansi Rilow when we were younger.” Ernst teases, eyes bright.

 

Hanschen wants to tease him back, but he just can’t when Ernst is sitting on his bed, wearing nothing but boxer’s and Hanschen’s sweater, which is too big on Hanschen and fits only a little tightly on Ernst. He’s not sure if Ernst is still mad at him or not, but he kisses him anyway. Ernst lets himself be eased back onto the bed before detaching himself from Hanschen. “Not so fast, Hansi.” He smiles lazily. “Not tonight.”

 

Hanschen moans at the loss of contact. “What do you want to do, then? It’s getting late.”

 

Ernst wrinkles his nose. “You don’t know what to do with me if we can’t make out?”

 

Hanschen’s eyes widen. “Ernst, no--”

 

Ernst laughs. “I’m just kidding, Hansi.” He rolls over so they’re lying beside one another. He tucks his face into the crook of Hanschen’s neck, and Hanschen thinks he might die on the spot. He looks out to window to distract himself, and finds the rain pounding down harder than ever.

 

“If the rain doesn’t stop by tonight, you can stay here and we’ll walk early to your house tomorrow to pick up your stuff.” He offers. Ernst nods into his shoulder and says nothing. Hanschen is almost convinced he’s asleep, but then Ernst whispers, “This is awfully close to a dating sort of thing, Hanschen.”

 

Hanschen sits up. “I have to go ask my mom if you can stay overnight. I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

Hanschen hates himself a little bit, for leaving at that moment. He tries to remind himself it’ll all be worth it in the end. When he escapes this miserable town, Ernst will be nothing more than a fading memory.

 

Still, he waits until he’s sure Ernst is asleep to return to his room.

 

* * *

 

Hanschen wakes up with Ernst curled around his body. He carefully removes himself from Ernst’s iron grip and sits up, grimacing as he recalls the events of the previous night. He buries his face in his hands and almost doesn’t notice when Ernst wakes up. He takes his head out of his hands and Ernst sits beside him. They’re close but not quite touching, and Hanschen is going to explode.

 

The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife, so Hanschen leans onto Ernst’s shoulder and murmurs in a sickly sweet drawl with, “Good morning, kitten.”

 

Ernst snorts. “Good morning, Hansi.” And hearing that sends an image, unbidden, into Hansen's mind, of him and Ernst making breakfast together in their own flat, maybe with a dog getting under their feet.

 

Hanschen moves away.

 

“We don’t have time for breakfast,” he says. “We have to go get your books.” It’s not that he doesn’t want to make breakfast with Ernst, he tells himself. He just likes to be on time, is all. He has to keep up appearances, though he’s not sure to whom at this point.

 

As they walk to Ernst’s house, and Hanschen feels a rush every time their hands brush, he realizes he has to end it, and soon. He doesn’t have a choice. He’s making it harder on himself and harder on Ernst, and it has to stop before it gets out of hand. It’s better to break it off quickly now, rather than wait and break Ernst’s heart.

 

But maybe not today.

 

* * *

 

Hanschen sits with Ernst at lunch, because he’s weak and pathetic. He has fun with Ernst’s friends and he makes an effort to participate in the conversation. He doesn’t even drag Ernst away into the abandoned teacher’s bathroom at the first possible moment. It feels strange to be so friendly with no ulterior motive. He hasn’t really done anything like this since elementary school, and he likes how it feels. He’s having fun, and he wants to do it again. He should stop. He’ll do it tomorrow, he assures himself.

 

 

 

 

Hanschen doesn’t stop.

 

It goes on for weeks; he and Ernst still make out and hang out and kiss and fuck and everything else friends should do, but now they don’t fight. Hanschen still eats lunch with Ernst, Moritz, Otto, and Georg, and he only makes fun of them when they deserve it.

 

Hanschen can’t handle it anymore.

 

Ernst is so happy now, and he still tells Hanschen he loves him sometimes, even if Hanschen refuses to respond. Sometimes, when he says it, Hanschen gets a warm feeling in his chest he shoves down until it disappears forever.

 

He knocks on Ernst’s door, and Ernst’s older brother opens it. He takes one look at Hanschen and says, “I’ll get him, wait here.”

 

When Ernst reaches the door, he’s frowning. Hanschen never goes to Ernst’s house; it’s always the other way around. “Let’s go for a walk,” suggests Hanschen in such a way that implies it isn’t a suggestion at all.

 

Ernst grabs his coat and yells into his house where he’s going. They walk together in silence until they reach the vineyard. Hanschen finally says, “Ernst, I… have to talk to you about something.”

 

Ernst seems to reach out for Hanschen’s hand, but thinks better of it. “What’s wrong, Hansi?”

 

Hanschen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can’t make himself make eye contact with Ernst when he says, “We have to end things.”

 

Ernst stops walking and narrows his eyes. “You can’t be serious, Hanschen. We’ve been having so much fun these past weeks, you can’t just…” He trails off, looking lost. “Why?”

 

“We’re not dating, Ernst. I don’t owe you an explanation.” Hanschen retorts, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Fuck you, Hanschen.”

 

Hanschen doesn’t think Ernst has ever said the word ‘fuck’ in his life.

 

“I know you prefer to live life with no strings attached, but it’s too late for that.” He steps closer to Hanschen, but Hanschen won’t move. “Why are you ruining this for yourself? For me?” Hanschen can feel Ernst’s breath on his face, the heat of his skin just centimetres away. Suddenly, Ernst is kissing him, and it feels like nothing he’s ever felt in his _life_ , it feels like Hanschen is going to die in this very spot.

 

He pulls away.

 

“Ernst. We have to stop. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.”

 

“Doesn’t it matter what I want?”

 

Hanschen sneers. “What _you_ want is a boyfriend, and I’m the only one who’s willing to give you the time of day. I’m not the one who’s too attached, _kitten_.” Every word feels like fire burning up his throat, but he keeps going. “We fucked because it was convenient, and now it’s not. Fuck off and leave me alone, Ernst.” He watches as Ernst’s eyes fill up with angry tears and then turns on his heel to leave, but not before he hears Ernst shout after him, “One day, you’ll wake up and realize you were so busy skimming off the cream or whatever the fuck you call it that you missed out on everything that makes life _good_.”

 

He doesn’t turn around.

 

* * *

 

Hanschen doesn’t speak to Ernst or any of his friends for a week, and it’s the loneliest week of his life. He even considers giving Bobby Maler a call for a while. He knows, though, that if he hooked up with Bobby he’d be thinking of Ernst the whole time, and that doesn’t seem fair.

 

God, who has he become?

 

When Hanschen is walking from history to math one day, Georg sidles up beside him, which is _not_ what he needs right now. “Fuck off, Zirschnitz.” He doesn’t stop walking or even turn to look at the other boy. Georg grabs his arm, and Hanschen doesn’t want to make a scene, so he stops. “What do you want?”

 

“What did you do to Ernst?” Hisses Georg, eyes narrowed.

 

Ugh. “I didn’t do anything, now will you _let me go_ ,” he snaps, giving Georg the meanest glower he can muster.

 

“Not so fast, Rilow. You stopped sitting with us the exact day Ernst showed up to school looking like a human raincloud. What did you do?” Georg tightens his grip on Hansen's arm.

 

“Ask him yourself, if you care so much. Ernst can fuck off and so can you.” He wrenches his arm from Georg’s grasp and storms off.

 

Fuck.

 

Hanschen survives math, but he doesn’t comprehend a word of the lesson. He doesn’t go home immediately after school, instead turning to the woods.

 

Hanschen loves the woods. They stretch on for miles, and it feels like he’s the only person in the world when he’s here. When he was young, there was an old treehouse he would play in, but it’s since been destroyed. When he found out it was gone, he’d been inconsolable. He was a mess for days, and pestered his parents to build him a new one for months, but they couldn’t, not with his baby sister to take care of. He feels like he’s six again, and his treehouse has just been destroyed, but he’s the only one who can fix it now.

 

“FUCK!” Hanschen screams into the empty woods. It feels good, so he does it again. “FUCK YOU, FUCK OFF, I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” His voice becomes a whisper. “I can’t take this anymore.” He collapses against a tree before his legs can give out beneath him.

 

He hasn’t been sitting beneath the foliage for more than a minute or two when a voice asks him, “What can’t you take anymore?”

 

He looks up to find Ilse Neumann standing over him. He seriously wonders if he’s dreaming.

 

“Boy troubles,” he explains. “You know how it is.”

 

Ilse nods sagely. “Let me guess. Whoever you’re fucking right now got too close, and now you’re mad.”

 

Hanschen makes a vague noise. “Kind of.” Sometimes he forgets he used to be close with Ilse. It was a few months before she left school. It was a friends with benefits situation, but Ilse had started dating some girl from outside of school and broke things off with Hanschen.

 

“Is this about Ernst?” Ilse sits down in front of him, so close their legs are touching. For a moment, he idly wonders when she cut off her hair, but then he realizes what she’s said.

 

“How do you know about Ernst?” He narrows his eyes with suspicion. It was a _secret_ , unless Ernst had suddenly outed himself and told the whole world about them, but that seems terribly unlikely.

 

“I didn’t, but you just told me.” She flashes him a catlike grin. “Moritz mentioned you two had a fight, so I put two and two together. Tell me what happened.”

 

Hanschen frowns. “He knew we weren’t dating, I made that clear, but he wanted everything a relationship entails. He couldn’t get it through his head.” He’s being harsh, but he’s angry, okay?

 

Ilse shakes her head. “I haven’t seen Ernst in a long time, but I don’t think he’s stupid, even if he’s naive.” She leans in so close their foreheads touch. “Ernst wouldn’t hurt a fly, so it’s probably your fault, Hansi. Are you going to fix it?”

 

He gently pushes her away. “Don’t call me that, Ilse.”

 

Ilse scoffs. “Why, does _Ernst_ call you Hansi?” When Hanschen says nothing, Ilse laughs and it seems to echo throughout the entire forest. Suddenly, her phone buzzes. “I have to go now, but I know you still have my number. Don’t be a stranger, Hanschen.” She pats him on the head and disappears back into the woods.

 

Hanschen is not entirely sure that encounter was real.

  
  
  


On the way home, he gets a text from an unknown number.

 

 **Unknown number:** hello hanschen this is moritz

 **Unknown number:** ilse is having a party next friday and you are invited

 **Hanschen:** Okay

 **Hanschen:** She just saw me and said nothing, why are you inviting me to your girlfriend’s party?

 **Moritz:** :(

 **Moritz:** she told me to invite whoever i want so im inviting you

 **Moritz** : will you come????

 **Moritz:** ernst is going,,,,

 

Hanschen scoffs.

 

 **Hanschen:** Why does it matter if Ernst is going?

 **Moritz:** whatever you say buddy

 **Moritz:** are you coming or no??

 **Hanschen:** I’m coming.

 **Hanschen:** Moritz, does Ilse often wander around the woods for no reason?

 **Moritz:** yes :) she’s the best

 

Hanschen turns his phone off. People in relationships are so annoying. (Yes, he knows how he sounds, thank you very much.)

 

* * *

 

The party arrives faster than expected. Hanschen had been texting Ilse and Moritz all week, all the while ignoring the fact that Ernst is falling farther and farther down in his recent contacts. He considers reaching out to him, but it’s not a good idea. If they start to talk, Hanschen knows they’ll end up back at square one.

 

Ilse lets him in and kisses him on the cheek. “You’re late.”

 

“Fashionably so.”

 

“Shut up, you’re too pretentious.” Ilse nudges him forward. “Drinks are in the kitchen. Don’t get too drunk, we’re playing games later.” She winks at him and disappears, leaving Hanschen alone. He’d kind of been expecting to spend the night with her, and now he’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to drink, he can’t do anything he’ll regret when Ernst is here, but it’s no fun being around drunk people while you’re sober.

 

He wanders from person to person and vaguely considers leaving until Ilse shouts, “Game time! Everyone who wants to play, come to the living room.” She appears behind Hanschen and drags him with her until they reach the room. People are clearing furniture to make space for everyone to sit in a circle on the floor.

 

Hanschen ends up sitting between Bobby and Wendla. Ernst is sitting almost directly across from Hanschen, but he refuses to acknowledge him. Ilse clears her throat. “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven. We’ll go around the circle, and when it’s your turn, you spin the bottle and then you go into the closet for seven minutes with whoever you land on!” Cheers ring out around the circle. “I’ll go first.” Ilse spins the bottle, and it lands on Moritz, miraculously. Someone wolf whistles, and Ilse winks at them. Moritz’s face is the colour of a ripe tomato as Ilse leads him into the closet under the stairs.

 

Bobby nudges him. Hanschen cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. Bobby snorts and asks, “Who do you think you’ll land on? Don’t roll your eyes at me, Rilow.”

 

Hanschen sighs. “It’s completely random, Bobby. I thought you were smart enough to comprehend basic probability, but I do love to be proven wrong on occasion.”

 

“Who do you hope you’ll get, then?” Bobby responds, completely ignoring the insults Hanschen hurled at him. He thinks that maybe that’s why he’d been so drawn to Bobby Maler last year; Bobby didn’t play along with his games, but always seemed to know what Hanschen wanted.

 

Even if Bobby won’t go along with it, Hanschen still likes to play.

 

He leans in close and purrs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Bobby licks his lips. “You know, the worst part of the game is waiting while everyone gets to have their fun.”

 

Hanschen tilts his head. “We can have our own fun out here.” He’s half convinced Bobby is going to kiss him right here from the look on his face, but he doesn’t get to find out because from the closet there resounds a loud _thump_ and then and even louder cry of “FUCK!” from Moritz. It does not sound like the kind of “fuck” he should be crying out in a game like seven minutes in heaven. Ilse opens the door with her arm around Moritz’s shoulder, and Moritz himself is clutching the side of his head.

 

“Moritz hit his head,” Ilse explains, “so we aren’t playing anymore.” She nods at their circle. “Keep playing though, it’s Bobby’s turn.”

 

Bobby spins the bottle, and it lands on Melchior, who scowls. Bobby makes eye contact with Hanschen and shooting a gun into his jugular. Hanschen laughs and murmurs, “I’d trade places with him if I could.”

 

Bobby winks. “Maybe later.”

 

Hanschen has no intention of hooking up with Bobby Maler today or ever, but he lets Bobby have hope. He doesn’t like to resort to Bobby unless he’s desperate, and Hanschen Rilow is never desperate.

 

If he’s honest with himself, he mostly flirted with Bobby to rile up Ernst, because he knows he’s being watched, and it’s pretty obvious who’s doing the watching.

 

When Bobby returns, he looks smug beyond belief. He gestures at Hanschen to spin the bottle. Hanschen is not at all worried it will land on Ernst (or that’s what he tells himself) because there are a lot of people in this circle, and it’s just not going to happen. It can’t. He spins the bottle and looks around the circle, wondering which miserable soul will be stuck with him.

 

The bottle seems to spin for years, and it lands on none other than Ernst Robel.

 

The circle cheers in that way teenagers do when someone like Ernst has to participate in a game like seven minutes in heaven, but Hanschen doesn’t really notice. He waits for Ernst to reach him before taking his hand and leading him to the closet. He knows what’s about to happen, and he should really try to avoid it, but he doesn’t want to. The door shuts and they stand across from one another silently, Hansen's hand still in Ernst’s.

 

After seconds or maybe years of silence, Ernst whispers, “Hansi?”

 

Hanschen smiles. “Hanschen and Ernst in the closet. Doesn’t that sound familiar?” Ernst laughs hollowly, and his eyes flicker hesitantly between Hansen's eyes and his lips. “If we do this, everyone will know,” Hanschen warns him. “Do you want that?”

 

Ernst swallows. “I don’t care.”

 

Hanschen lets himself be pushed against the door, lets himself relish in the pleasure of having Ernst back, even if it’s only for a short seven minutes. His hands find their way beneath Ernst’s shirt and up and down his sides, and Ernst’s hands are _everywhere_ , and Hanschen wants to steal this moment out of time and live in it until he dies.

 

Ernst stops for a moment. “I saw you flirting with Bobby Maler."

 

Hanschen pauses, panting. “And?”

 

“I wanted to kill him.”

 

They fall back together, and Hanschen thinks inanely that they are like magnets, that they’ll stay like this forever because it’s meant to be.

 

After a few minutes, Ernst stops kissing him, and Hanschen keens at the loss. Ernst ignores him and says so quietly Hanschen wonders if he imagined it, “What happens when this is over? What does it mean?”

 

Hanschen thinks for a moment. He places a kiss on Ernst’s jaw and replies, “It doesn’t mean anything if it ends here, but if we continue on like before, then it means something.”

 

“Do we have to continue on like before? Can’t we be something new?”

 

“No,” Hanschen breathes, “the only way is _me_ and _you_.” It’s a nonsense phrase that Hanschen himself doesn’t even understand, but he wants Ernst to go back to kissing him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life, and it seems to work. He forgets they’re playing a game entirely until one unlucky soul knocks on the door. They disentangle from one another, and Hanschen rests his forehead against Ernst’s. “I miss you.” The words slip out without his volition.

 

The knock rings out again, and Hanschen sighs before smoothing out his clothes and opening the door. He smiles coyly for the crowd staring at them and takes his spot beside Bobby, who gives him a curious look, but Hanschen ignores him. Wendla spins the bottle, and it’s forgotten, by the crowd.

 

The game is pretty boring afterwards; Anna lands on him, but she’s gay and only wants to know if he’s started on the homework for math (he hasn’t).

 

He spends the rest of the night desperately trying to avoid looking at Ernst, and succeeding for the most part. Every time he failed and looked across the circle, Ernst was staring right back, with an expression mirroring his. Hanschen really, _really_ wants this game to end already.

 

* * *

 

When the game ends, Ernst approaches Hanschen apologetically. “I know you’re about to invite me to your house for the night, but my parents are expecting me home.” He says it like he’s inviting Hanschen over to hang out and not make up for the time lost not looking at one another, let alone touching each other, for two long weeks. He gives Hanschen a peck on the lips because what’s the point in hiding it now, and bids him goodbye.

 

Before Hanschen can escape, Bobby Maler finds him again, wrapping an arm around Hansen's waist in lieu of a greeting. “It’s later.”

 

Hanschen extracts himself from the other boy. “Romance really is dead,” he sighs dramatically, tossing his head over his shoulder and staring into the distance.

 

“What’d you do with Ernst?” Bobby draws Hanschen back.

 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, Mr. Maler,” Hanschen retorts archly, pushing Bobby away yet again.

 

Bobby crosses his arms and taps his foot. “So you’re just leaving me high and dry?”

 

“I certainly am!”

 

“At least let me walk with you for a bit.” Bobby pleads, and God, Hanschen is glad he didn’t end up in the closet with Bobby, he’d be ashamed of letting Bobby near him ever again.

 

“You’re going to do it whether I want you to or not,” Hanschen says as he holds open the door for Bobby to follow him out. “You really don’t know how to woo a guy. _I’m_ holding the door open for _you_.”

 

He shrugs. “You said it yourself, romance is dead.”

 

They walk in silence for a few seconds until Hanschen demands, “Why are you really here? I’m not going to change my mind about going home with you.”

 

Bobby shakes his head. “Are you dating Ernst? Is that why?”

 

Hanschen snorts. “God, no. We’re not dating.”

 

Bobby narrows his eyes. He can see right through Hanschen. “You’re not dating, but you’re something.” When Hanschen doesn’t reply, Bobby grins like the cheshire cat. “You like him. The Great Hanschen Rilow caught _feelings_!”

 

“I haven’t caught feelings, shut up. I’ve caught Ernst, and I can’t seem to get rid of him.” Hanschen says, looking down.

 

“But you don’t want to.”

 

Hanschen says nothing.

 

When he gets home, he has a text.

 

 **Ernst:** Can I come over tomorrow??

 **Hanschen:** Sure

 **Hanschen:** Good night, Ernst

 **Ernst:** :)

 

Hanschen wishes everything weren’t so complicated.

 

* * *

 

 **Incoming call:** _Ilse Neumann_

 

Hanschen answers it, and immediately is bombarded by Ilse shouting in his ear. “What happened? I heard you got Ernst in seven minutes in heaven, tell us what happened!”

 

“Us?”

 

“Hi, Hanschen,” pipes up Moritz. “You’re on speaker. Ernst told me everything that happened with you two. He didn’t talk about the game, but he seemed happy.”

 

“So you don’t have a reason to hide anything,” Ilse adds, and Hanschen can see her self-satisfied grin like she’s right in front of him.

 

“Maybe there was a reason he didn’t tell you about the game,” Hanschen tries, knowing they won’t listen.

 

“You were there too, Hanschen. Spill.” Ilse leaves no room for debate.

 

Hanschen sighs. “Well, we kissed mostly, and talked a little bit. But it was mainly kissing. I’d be happy to describe that to you in graphic detail, but somehow I don’t think you want to hear that.”

 

Ilse huffs. “She’s rolling her eyes right now,” Moritz narrates. “What did you talk about? Are you dating?”

 

“No! We’re friends, like before. We’re not fighting anymore.”

 

“Hanschen Johann Rilow, if you don’t date that boy, I will.”

 

“Hey!” Moritz cries. “Also, he’s gay. I guess I’ll date him, then.”

 

“That’s the spirit, babe. Anyway, Hanschen, you have to make an honest man out of him, before it’s too late.”

 

“It’s complicated! I just can’t,” he hisses. “Let it be.” The doorbell rings, and Hanschen is saved. “Ernst is here, I have to go. I won’t talk to you later!” He hangs up, ignoring their protests, as he opens the door.

 

Hanschen is nervous for what’ll happen when they get to his room. They could tumble into his bed as soon as the door closes, but Ernst could rope him into a conversation about their feelings, and then Hanschen will have to crush Ernst’s hopeful little heart. Again.

 

Ernst sits on the bed, but unfortunately doesn’t seem to want to do anything else in it, which means he’s taking door number two. Hanschen can’t foresee a good ending to this, but he hopes he’ll be surprised. “We should talk about what happened at the vineyard. The fight, I mean.”

 

This was unexpected. Hanschen had forgotten about that, in all honesty. He figured Ernst didn’t care about it, because why would they have done what they did during seven minutes in heaven otherwise? “I’m listening.”

 

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Ernst sounds hurt, but Hanschen won’t look at him to find out.

 

He wants to fix things, he wants Ernst back in his arms, but Hanschen Rilow does not apologize and he does not regret. Even for Ernst. “What do you want me to say, I lied? It was all true, darling.”

 

“Then why am I even here, Hansi?” He gets up to leave, but Hanschen grabs his arm.

 

“Stop, you can’t…” he trails off, then says quickly, “You are more than convenient to me, you mean something to me. I don’t not want you.” The words come out forced and stilted. It’s as close as he’ll get to an apology. “Please don’t go,” he whispers, pulling Ernst closer to him. He knows there’s desperation in his eyes, but he needs Ernst like he needs water and oxygen.

 

“You have to stop being so moody. You can’t just be nice to me when you feel like it.” Ernst begins reluctantly. “And you can’t just walk out when you’re mad.”

 

Hanschen can’t help himself. “This sounds a lot like dating.”

 

Ernst wrenches himself away very suddenly. “And you have to stop doing that! I know we aren’t dating, I’m not an idiot. Stop reminding me.”

 

“I won’t remind you that we aren’t dating as long as you remember we aren’t,” Hanschen agrees, raising an eyebrow. Ernst nods silently.

 

If their positions were switched, Hanschen would have been long gone by now. If Ernst truly loves him, it must kill him to have this conversation, and to be so close to Hanschen but still so far from what he wants. It almost makes Hanschen want to drop his carefully constructed walls and let Ernst in so he’ll stop hurting, but it’s just not possible. He wonders if Ernst will ever realize what’s good for him and run away from Hanschen once and for all. If Hanschen was a better man, he’d do it himself; he’d end things with Ernst for good, so he could be with someone who wants him. But Hanschen is not a good man, which is why he kisses Ernst instead of talking things over with him. Ernst, being the person he is, doesn’t stop him, even if Hanschen kind of wants him too. If Ernst pushes the issue, maybe Hanschen will finally relent.

 

But he doesn’t, and nothing changes.

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Hanschen sits with Ernst, Otto, Georg, and Moritz at lunch. He’s missed the company more than he cares to admit. Otto, Moritz, and Georg are tense, like if they say the wrong thing, the delicate peace between Hanschen and Ernst will shatter. After five minutes of awkward small talk, Ernst makes worried eye contact with Hanschen, and Hanschen makes a decision.

 

“Just get on with whatever you’re so scared to say, you’re going to give me a headache,” he says dispassionately.

 

Georg goes first. “So you guys aren’t fighting anymore?”

 

“But you’re still not dating.” Otto adds, glaring at Hanschen not-so-subtly.

 

Ernst nods. He can’t manage to look at his friends.

 

“So whatever happened at the party just… fixed it?” Georg looks suspicious. “What did you do?”

 

Ernst hides his face in his hands so no one can see it turn red. “Well,” Hanschen explains in a voice he’d use to talk to a toddler, “when two people love each other _very_ much--”

 

“Hanschen!” Ernst squeaks, hitting him on the arm. “We did _not_ ,” he assures the others. Hanschen winks, and Ernst leans his head on Hanschen’s shoulder. Moritz coos at them, and Hanschen wants more than anything for this to be real.

 

He wants to push it down, turn off everything he feels for Ernst. It’s too much for him. Hanschen Rilow doesn’t date people, he doesn’t want to date people. Hanschen Rilow is surviving high school with no strings attached.

 

But Ernst’s face is red with laughter at something Otto said, and their legs are touching under the table, and... maybe he can pretend for a little bit. He knows this will end in flames, but until it does, Hanschen can pretend.

 

* * *

 

Hanschen and Ernst are lying together in Hansen's bed, so close you can’t tell where one boy ends and the other begins. “When you look back, thirty years from now, what will you think of this? Of us?” Ernst murmurs drowsily into Hanschen’s neck.

 

“It will seem unbelievably beautiful,” Hanschen replies, moving so he can look at Ernst’s face.

 

“That’s what you said at the vineyard,” Ernst argues. “You have to answer for real.”

 

In thirty years, Hanschen is planning on forgetting high school ever happened. He doesn’t know if he’ll even remember Ernst existed. He says, “I think I’ll look back and laugh at how simple life was.”

 

Ernst frowns. “Life is never simple.” He kisses Hanschen on the cheek. “Especially you, Hansi. You are very complicated.” It feels like an insult when Ernst says it, somehow. “You have too many secrets.”

 

“I’m an enigma, kitten. If I give away what’s in my mind, what’ll I be left with?”

 

Ernst smiles sadly. “Just because you share things, it doesn’t mean you have to give them away.” Suddenly, he asks, “Hansi, do you love me?” It’s a non sequitur that leaves Hanschen reeling.

 

Hanschen gives him an unpleasant glare. “Ernst, darling, I hate to remind you, but--”

 

“I know we aren’t dating. But do you love me?”

 

Hanschen’s chest feels suddenly too tight. “I don’t understand.”

 

“It’s a simple question.” Ernst eyes betray no ulterior motive or hidden meaning, which is intensely frustrating.

 

The ‘no’ is on the tip of his tongue, but something makes him hesitate. “Ernst, I… you know how I feel.”

 

“No, I don’t.” Ernst says patiently. “Tell me if you love me.” He’s not playing Hanschen’s game anymore.

 

“No.” It feels like he’s swallowing broken glass. “I don’t love you.”

 

Ernst makes a face like he doesn’t quite believe him. Hanschen isn’t quite sure if he believes himself, either.

 

* * *

 

It takes a startlingly short amount of time for them to crash and burn.

 

Just over three weeks after Ilse’s party, Ernst is at Hanschen’s house, lazily trailing kisses up Hansen's neck, Latin homework long abandoned. It’s-- it’s _nice_. Hanschen is happy. He has almost everything he could possibly want in this moment; the sun streaming in through the curtains, casting a heavenly light on the naked boy in his bed. It’s idyllic, the kind of scene he’s only dreamed about.

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Ernst asks, eyes fluttering open to look at Hanschen, a small smile gracing his face.

 

“I’m thinking about how today couldn’t be more perfect.” Hanschen grins and kisses Ernst hard, until he pushes away.

 

“Why’s that, hmm?”

 

Hanschen whines at the loss of Ernst's lips on him, and it takes a moment for him to even realize he had said anything. “What?”

 

“What makes today so perfect?”

 

Hanschen grins like the cat who ate the canary. “It’s a beautiful day and I have a beautiful boy naked in my bed. What more could I ask for?”

 

Ernst sits up. “There’s nothing you want more than having me naked in your bed?” His mouth is screwed into a grimace.

 

Hanschen can _see_ the shards of his perfect afternoon shatter and fall around him. “You say that like I’ve insulted you. Do you not want to be naked in my bed?”

 

Ernst’s scowl darkens. “That’s not the point, Hansi. Don’t you want more?” His voice cracks.

“This is exactly what I want. You know that.” He really doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

 

“I think we both know that’s not true.” Ernst shakes his head. “I don’t understand you sometimes. I know you have this weird thing about like, not being friends with anybody during high school because you’re getting out of here as soon as possible, but I know you want this. It’s too late to keep me at an arm’s length, so why do you keep trying?”

 

Ernst has torn down Hanschen’s walls with his bare hands. There’s no way he’ll get out of this with what he wants. “What we have now is what I want. I don’t want anything to change. I don’t do relationships for a good reason, _kitten_. I don’t care what you think you know, I prefer it like this.” The worst part is that Ernst is right. Hanschen wants to have a real relationship with him, he wants Ernst all to himself, but he won’t. He can’t. He wishes Ernst would let it go so Hanschen wouldn’t have to be so mean about it. He doesn’t want to hurt Ernst, but he doesn’t see another choice.

 

Ernst is glaring daggers at him. “You can’t just use people! I love you, Hansi, more than anything. I’ve given you everything, and all I am to you is convenient, apparently.”

 

Hanschen frowns. “I didn’t mean that, when I said it.”

 

“You never apologized, though.” Ernst moves forward into Hanschen’s space. “You can try to make life, or the system, or whatever work for you, but you can’t do that with people. You can’t pick and choose what parts of me you want just because you can’t get over some stupid rules you made for yourself.”

 

It feels like Ernst has torn Hanschen’s chest open and then ripped his heart out of the gaping wound. “Ernst, I…” Hanschen Rilow is never speechless, but he can’t seem to find a word to say, not even something horrible to shoot back at Ernst.

 

“That’s what I thought.” Ernst frowns bitterly and starts to gather his discarded clothes from the floor to get dressed. “I’m going to leave now, Hansi. If you ever change your mind, you can come find me.”

 

And with that, he’s gone.

 

Hanschen has been gutted. He lies back down and pulls the blankets over his head like a child who’s had a nightmare. He wishes it had been a nightmare, but the bed is still warm where Ernst had been lying with him only minutes before.

 

If this was anyone else, Hanschen would be over it in a day or two, but right now, he can’t imagine even getting out of bed. His mind is is playing ‘Ways Hanschen Fucked it Up with Ernst - Greatest Hits’ on repeat.

 

Then, his phone rings.

 

For a second, Hanschen is convinced it’s Ernst, but instead, he finds the incoming call is from Ilse.

 

“Hi, Hanschen,” Ilse says cheerfully. “Want to come over? Me and Moritz want to play Settlers of Catan but there’s only two of us. You can bring your beau!”

 

“No.” He offers no explanation even though he knows Ilse will pester him anyway.

 

“What happened?” Ilse demands immediately. “Something happened, because you aren’t being annoying.”

 

Hanschen _knows_ he is an irritating, horrible, flawed human being, and he does not appreciate being reminded by Ilse. “I’m fucking fine, Ilse,” he snaps. He’s already sabotaged his relationship with the person he was most close to in the world, might as well keep going, right?

 

“Is it Ernst?”

 

Hanschen doesn’t reply.

 

“What happened with Ernst?” Ilse speaks like she’s talking to a child.

 

There are a million things he could say. _He finally realized what’s good for him. He broke up with me. He broke my heart._ “He finally snapped.” Is what he finally decides on.

 

Ilse sighs tiredly. “That’s what happens when you push someone like that. The question is, are you going to try and get him back?”

 

Truthfully, Hanschen doesn’t know. He needs Ernst like he needs air, but he doesn’t _do_ relationships. That won’t change. Logically, that rules out the possibility of him ever being with Ernst, but Hanschen wants it so badly he can barely breathe. After a long pause, he says simply, “I don’t know.”

 

Ilse tuts softly. “Oh, Hansi. What are we going to do with you?”

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Hanschen tries his best to convince his mother he’s sick, but she won’t let him stay home. He would rather die than go to school, but he has no choice. He has to face it at some point, he supposes.

 

When he arrives, he’s half-expecting the whole school to know what happened, but everyone’s life goes on like normal as Hanschen’s falls apart around him. Moritz gives him pitying looks when they see each other, but that’s the extent of communication between him and any of his friends. The only words that come out of his mouth for the entire day are directed at teachers.

 

The worst part is that a few months ago, this was a typical day in the life of Hanschen Rilow. Briefly, he wishes he could go back to before he ever met Ernst, but he knows he’ would eventually end up stuck in the same spot he’s in right now.

 

At least now, he most definitely _will_ survive high school without making a splash; he’ll graduate and escape their hellhole of a town, and no one will remember him. That’s what Hanschen wants. Well, that’s if he doesn’t go crawling back to Ernst, which he won’t. Going back to Ernst would break every single one of Hanschen’s rules.

 

Still, it’s tempting.

 

They would break up by graduation anyway, Hanschen tries to reason with himself. He’d be heartbroken and it will have meant nothing. High school relationships never last. And besides, just because he wants it now, it doesn’t mean he always will. Hanschen loses interest easily; that’s what happened with Bobby, Reinhold, and (most regrettably) Melchior. He’d be setting Ernst up just to hurt him. Again.

 

He spots Ernst in the hallway, and his resolve crumbles. Hanschen is going to break all of his rules and crawl back into Ernst’s arms whether he wants to or not.

 

He has to do it at school, because if he shows up at Ernst’s house, Ernst could just kick him out. Or his older brothers could murder Hanschen and hide the body. He’s not doing it at lunch where the whole cafeteria could see him, or worse, hear him talking about his _feelings_. It’s not an option, so he has to do it after school. He’ll do it tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow, after school, he will talk to Ernst and everything will be okay.

  
  
  
  


 

Hanschen puts it off for two weeks. It’s by far the worst two weeks of his life, and this is why he liked living life with no strings attached. Once you get used to having friends and being happy, it’s even harder when it all disappears, like everything eventually does. Even Ilse barely talks to him. Eventually, Hanschen can’t put it off anymore; he follows Ernst out of the school from a distance after last period, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

 

Once there aren’t so many people around, he calls out, “Ernst!”

 

Ernst stops to turn around and crosses his arms. When Hanschen says nothing, he says curtly, “Go on, Hanschen. Talk.”

 

Hanschen planned out what he was going to say a hundred thousand times, but he could never get it right. He takes a deep breath and hopes whatever is about to come out of his mouth is worth weathering the awful look Ernst is giving him.

 

“You kind of ruined my life, Ernst.”

 

Not off to a great start.

 

“I was doing perfectly fine before you. I kept everyone at an arm’s length because it was easier. I made myself rules and I followed them. But then _you_ came along. I didn’t want to care about you, I tried so hard not to. I didn’t want to change the way I acted for you, because that meant you were special, different than all the others, but I know now I should have. Because you are special. I’ve never felt like this before, I never let myself get attached to anyone, because it’s fucking terrifying. But I never realized it’s a good kind of fear, because we get to be scared together.

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said and acted the way I acted, and I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. I’m not trying to make excuses or anything. I just want you to know I’m sorry, and if you care at all, I’m abandoning my rules for you. I want to be… yours, if you’ll have me, for as long as you want me. I love you, Ernst Robel, and I wish it didn't take me so long to realize it.”

 

Hanschen doesn’t realize he’s stopped talking until Ernst steps forward and takes his hands, and finally, Hanschen can breathe.

 

“You’re so stupid, Hansi. I don’t know why I love you.” Ernst gives him a small smile. “But I do. Love you, I mean. I can’t forgive you yet, but I’m all yours.” Hanschen moves in to kiss him, but Ernst moves away. “Not yet, kitten. Take me on a date first, and then we’ll talk.”

 

Hanschen laughs, and he feels lighter than he has in months.

 

* * *

  
  
They get dinner and see a badly-written horror flick the next day after school, and Hanschen is so happy he could burst. They don’t even make out in the movie theatre like he used to do with Ilse, much to the chagrin of the staff. Their first kiss as an official couple is reserved for when they get back to Hanschen’s house, and it’s not even a good kiss, but only because Hanschen can’t stop smiling.

 

“I’m glad you’re having fun, but we are having a moment and you’re ruining it,” Ernst complains, but he’s grinning too.

 

“If you want me to stop smiling, stop being so pretty,” Hanschen replies, and Ernst snorts.

 

“You sure know how to flatter a guy, Hansi, but there are better things we could be doing.”

 

Hanschen may have failed with the ‘no strings attached’ thing, but some people are worth it, he thinks as Ernst trips on his way to the bed. Emotions are hard and weird and messy and foreign and Hanschen has no idea how to handle it, but he and Ernst can figure it out as they go along. His entire world view has been turned on its side, but he knows one thing for sure: he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed it, leave a comment with what you think, id love to hear it! 
> 
> uhh i might make this into a series but idk?? 
> 
> hmu on tunglr dot hell @ morittz


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